This is where I say, “It isn’t the book, it’s me”. It’s not necessarily Dykette or author Jenny Fran Davis’ fault in any way that I find myself rating this book so poorly. As a matter of fact, It’s likely Jenny Fran Davis’ talent as a storyteller that kept me hanging on just enough to even finish this book, because I almost DNFd it more than once.

Before anyone tries to burn me in effigy, please let me explain.

When I requested to read this book I was very excited to read it, because of the blurb. That’s part of the problem: I feel for the blurb. The blurb isn’t a lie, but it certainly plays down certain aspects of the novel and exaggerates others. I knew we were getting into a book about queer couples and that the book took place at the upstate New York house of two lesbians. I didn’t know this book was going to be deeply steeped in dyke and butch discourse and terminology, none of which I understood. Yes, I realize that’s a “me” problem. The blurb also makes this book sound much more seductive and salacious than it actually felt to me, and it greatly exaggerates Sasha’s role toward the end of the book. I really feel robbed of what I thought I was getting.

I realize a lot of this book “not being for me” is due to my passing privilege. I am a proudly open and out polyamorous bisexual, but I’m cisgendered in the day to day and very femme when I go out at night. While I’ve known dykes, butch lesbians, other femmes, and am related to other members of the queer community, I don’t know lesbian or dyke culture well enough to say that I could pick up on half of the terms, references, or importance of the currents of discourse the characters in the story were having. There was no room for me to feel anything but confused or exasperated for the vast majority of the book: Whether it was about how these people treat one another or it was about pop culture references I was probably too busy raising my kids at the time they happened to understand.

I did enjoy Davis’ writing style. She does have a keen eye for satire and barbed wit. While I may not have enjoyed some of the more visceral and colorful descriptions Davis used in this book there’s no denying they are employed to great effect.

I feel a bit embarrassed for being a member of the queer community and yet not knowing a thing about a corner of it. My ex-spouse is transgender and pansexual, so I’ve educated myself pretty damn solidly on those topics so I can support her in her new life. My older kid is gender fluid and bisexual and is still trying to decide which pronoun fits best or if they all fit just fine. My younger son is asexual, and if he’s happy then that’s all I want. Yet I picked up a queer lit book and found myself completely perplexed.

I don’t regret reading the book at all. I just wish I could say I knew what was going on in it. But that’s on me and my own ignorance–not the book.

I was provided a copy of this title by NetGalley and the author. All thoughts, opinions, views, and ideas expressed herein are mine and mine alone. Thank you. Owing to personal policy regarding book reviews three stars or lower, this review will not appear on any bookseller or social media website.

File Under: Just Not For Me/Lesbian Romance/LGBTQ Fiction/LGBTQ Romance/Literary Fiction/OwnVoices/Women’s Fiction